Immortal Danger (26 page)

Hold you when you sleep.
Because Adam did hold her, keeping her wrapped in warm, strong arms. And, damn, but it felt right when he held her.

In the past, she'd always wanted to sleep alone after sex. She hadn't wanted a false closeness.

But with Adam, it wasn't false. The connection she felt, it was real. She'd missed him, missed his touch and his scent and his strength the last few nights.

She'd missed his arms, holding her.

“Maya…” The rumble of his voice made her swallow. She stared into his eyes, unable to look away as he said, “I'm offering you all the blood you need and all the sex you can handle,” he continued, heat roughening his words.

Wow. No smart vampire would turn that down.

Silence, just for a beat of time, then, “I'm offering you forever with a man who'd do anything you wanted—just to make you smile.”

Well, damn.

Maya parted her lips to speak, but found she didn't know what to say.

Forever.
Such a long, long time. Especially for her. And for Adam.

“Nassor was right about the darkness in you,” Adam said and Maya felt her heart lurch to a stop.

No, no—

“I've got that same darkness. I know what it's like to live with that kind of power inside.” His gaze bored into hers. “I control that darkness, and so do you.”

But what if she lost control? What if, one day, the beast inside took over?

His fingers tightened around hers. “You'll always leash the beast, baby, because the woman in you is a hell of a lot stronger than the darkness.”

He lifted her hand, pressed a kiss against her palm. “What will it be, vampire? Do you choose to walk with me or do you choose to walk alone?”

She'd thought she'd chosen before. When she'd left him, she'd planned to fight on her own. To live on her own.

But Adam was offering her something now—something she'd barely ever dreamed she'd have.

A partner, a lover of her own. Someone to turn to when the nightmares rose and even when the laughter beckoned.

“What about Cammie?” It was the only thing holding her back—if she ever did anything to hurt the kid…

“It took me a week to get here because Cammie and I had to pack up the house in Maine. She wanted to come to you, and so did I.” The briefest of smiles. “Don't you know, you're her hero now? The woman who saved her from the monsters.”

Oh, but she wanted to take what he was offering. The chance for happiness. For a life not lived in the shadows.

“I…love you, Maya. More than I think you'll ever know.”

Shit. Her knees almost buckled on that one.
He loved her?
Her pulse raced now, far too fast. Her hands were soaked with sweat and a wild, raw pleasure filled her heart.

He loved her.

“I know you—you don't love me, not yet, but, dammit, we've got a hell of a lot of years ahead of us, and if you'll just give me a chance—” Adam broke off, drawing a deep breath. “One day, one night at a time, Maya. That's all I'm asking.”

One night at a time.
She could handle that, but Adam, well, he deserved more.
Stop being afraid.
It was time she put her past to rest, and fought for the future she'd longed for. Her fingers curled over his. “Adam…”

He flinched.

She shook her head. “No, please, listen.” Ah, but she still didn't know what to say. “Shit, Adam, I-I care for you.”
Care. Far too weak a word.

A muscle flexed along his jaw. “Like you care for your friend Sean? Or for Cammie? Or for—”

“No! Look, I worry about you. All the time. I mean, I know you're a freaking dragon and can pretty much kick everyone's ass, but I worry about you. I want to protect you. And I want you. I
want you so much
but I also, dammit, I just want to hold you.” She was screwing this up.

A frown lined his brow.

“I like it when you hold me,” she whispered and the admission was one of the hardest she'd ever made. “I like it when you smile, even when you get all arrogant and asshole-like on me, I still like it.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

Did the man want her to have absolutely no pride? Fine. If that was what he needed, then—“I'm saying I think I love you, dragon.”

Savage satisfaction flashed across his face. “Good, because I'm fucking insane for you.” His lips took hers, the kiss hard and deep. She could taste his hunger, his lust.

It matched hers perfectly.

But then, Adam had matched her from the beginning.

Dragon.

Warrior.

Lover.

And with a soul as dark as her own.

She wanted to get him somewhere dark and quiet where they could be alone and naked and she could make certain this wasn't some kind of dream.

But first…“Hold the thought, Slick,” she murmured against his lips. “I got a little bit of business to take care of here.”

His head lifted, and he glanced back at the warehouse. “What did the asshole do?”

“Messed with the wrong cop.” A good cop, one who just hadn't known how to handle a demon.

“Huh.” Adam slowly stepped away from her, but he didn't release her hand. “Then lead the way, sweetheart. We'll take care of him, then I'll take you.”

A quiver of excitement heated her blood. “That a promise, dragon?”

“Vampire, think of it more as a guarantee.”

Maya smiled at him, reached for her gun, and got ready to kick ass.

It was, after all, one of the things she did best.

 

It had been a near miss, Adam realized as he stalked behind Maya into the darkened building.

She'd nearly escaped him—and left him in the darkness all alone.

But he'd managed to convince her that they had something together, and she was willing to give him a chance.

Willing to give them a chance.

She was still afraid. Maya didn't trust easily, and love for her, well, that would never be easy, either.

But as he'd said, they had plenty of time. Time for him to prove to her that he was exactly the man she needed.

Yes, they had plenty of days. Plenty of nights.

He could be patient.

After all, he'd already waited a thousand years to find her.

He smiled as he watched her kick open a door, shattering wood. The demon was running from her, and Maya was telling him that he had two options.

“Option one,” she snarled, “I kick your ass and then watch you drag your sorry carcass out of L.A.
And
you stay away from my cops.”

The demon backed into a corner. Its claws were up, but Adam could smell his fear.

Apparently, Maya's reputation had preceded her.

A tough bitch to stake.

An unstoppable killer.

And the woman who could tame a dragon.

“What's the second option?” the L7 asked, voice high.

Maya spared Adam a glance over her shoulder. “My dragon gets to show you how hot his fire burns.”

The demon began to shake and then he started making promises, fast. Swearing he'd never so much as look at a cop, or
any
human, again.

Maya's words whispered through his mind.
My dragon.
He liked that. A lot.

Because she was sure as hell his.

A perfect mate.

A woman who could touch the fire and never feel the burn.

Maya Black
.

The vampire who held the heart of a dragon in the palm of her hand.

Eternity with her was gonna be one hell of an adventure.

Blood, sex, and fire.

He could hardly wait.

Everyone knows

IT'S HOTTER IN HAWAII,

and in HelenKay Dimon's latest, that doesn't just

mean the weather….

C
assie's head snapped back. “What are you doing?”

The woman asked a
very
good question. “Standing here.”

“You were going to kiss me.”

For a second there he toyed with the idea, yeah. “Think a lot of yourself, don't you?”

“I know when a man wants to kiss me.”

She didn't have to sound so appalled by the possibility. “So, that's a ‘yes' on the arrogance thing?”

“Come off it. I saw you.”

“Then you need glasses.” And a drink. Maybe that would help.

“You're two inches away and swooping in.”

“Swooping?” Cal stepped back and well out of swooping range.

Mauling complete strangers was not his style. Neither was making a move on an estranged friend's grieving sister. Make that grieving baby sister. She was somewhere around thirty and hot as hell. Dan probably hadn't slept through the night since Cassie turned fourteen. No sane man who wanted to protect her would.

Cal chalked up the moment of stupidity to the long flight and the shocking news about Dan his brain still refused to compute. Just a heap of pent-up energy with nowhere to go. Yep. Nothing more than a near miss brought on by low blood sugar…or something.

“Reaction.” One he insisted had more to do with the heat of the situation than the length of her legs.

“To what?” Those amber eyes narrowed.

“This,” he waved his hand back and forth. “Between us. That and the by-product of the gunfire. It's not real.”

Her lips twisted into a look of disgust. “Did your head slam against the floor or something?”

Now she was ticking him off. “Give me a break. Are you trying to tell me this only goes one way?”

“Define
this
.” She mimicked his hand gesture by waving her hand back and forth between them.

“Interest.”

“In you?”

Now she sounded horrified. A guy could get a complex. “Do you see someone else here?”

“No, but I'm not the one who's lost his mind. That seems to be you at the moment.”

“You're trying to tell me—”

“Yes.”

“You felt nothing when—”

“Exactly.”

“At all?”

“Not even a twinge.” She topped the response with a smug smile.

Well, hell. Here he thought they both were fighting back a heavy-duty case of adrenaline-fueled lust. Looked like he stood alone on that score.

And try DANGEROUS GAMES

by Charlotte Mede,

available now from Brava….

T
he Thursday evening salons hosted by Mrs. Hampton had become one of the most coveted invitations in London society, each guest scrutinized by the hostess herself to ensure lively, engaging, and informed debate on the most compelling issues of the day. And while her town house in Mayfair was a modest affair, the company was always of the highest order, along with generous servings of food and drink to satisfy the most discerning guests.

Tonight, the room heaved with conversation, the latest rebellion in India taking center stage, while off to the wings, breathless discussion percolated about the arrival in London of the Koh-I-Noor, the world's largest diamond—destined to be presented to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert upon the opening of the Great Exhibition in under one month's time. Conceived by the prince, the historic occasion would be held in Hyde Park in the spectacularly constructed Crystal Palace, designed to showcase England's and the world's advances in science and industry.

“Not at all, not at all, my dear Mrs. Hampton,” Seabourne finally replied, clasping his hands behind his back and away from the tap of her ivory fan. “Your questions are diverting as always but never more so than the woman who poses them.”

Lilly inclined her head toward him, raising her low voice slightly to compete with the surging exchanges going on around them. “Well thank you, sir. But you must hasten to answer my question as the buffet will be served quite soon.”

John Sydons, the former publisher of the
Guardian
, guffawed, his muttonchops bristling. “And we shouldn't want that, Seabourne. I just saw a spectacular Nesselrode pudding float by along with a platter of oysters swimming in cream. So let's move along. Respond to the lady's query—has the situation settled somewhat this past month?”

Seabourne nodded portentously, the horizontal lines on his forehead deepening. “The political expansion of the British East India Company at the perceived expense of native princes and the Mughal court has aroused Hindu and Muslim animosity alike, a complex situation overall which I do not think will be resolved without a Parliamentary solution.”

“A tinderbox is what it is,” murmured Lilly.

“Indeed,” seconded the man across from her, Lord Falmouth, Member of Parliament. Small and wiry, he barely filled out his impeccably tailored waistcoat and jacket. “It didn't help that our colonial government, in its boundless wisdom, furnished the Indian soldiers with cartridges coated with grease made from the fat of cows and of pigs. Ignorance and incompetence in one fell stroke. Amazing.”

“The first sacred to Hindus and the second anathema to Muslims.” Lilly splayed her fan in barely concealed annoyance. “We have an ineffectual and insensitive Governor and of course, an historic series of blunders, beginning with the Kabul massacre, that slaughter in the mountain passes of Afghanistan. I have heard it said that of the sixteen thousand who set out on retreat, only one man survived to arrive in Jalalabad.”

“It was actually believed that the Afghans let him live so he could tell the grisly story—such a severe blow and bitter humiliation to British pride.” Lord Falmouth jutted out his rather weak chin. “Reports from the forty-fourth English Regiment are dismal. The troops kept on through the passes but without food, mangled and disoriented, they are reported to have knocked down their officers with the butts of their muskets. St. Martin is one of the few to have survived, if survive is the word one would choose to use.”

“He's quite the loose cannon, or so one hears from the Foreign Office,” added Seabourne. “Has publicly resigned his post, whatever it was, something to do with statecraft, certainly.”

“You mean spycraft, surely,” Lord Falmouth corrected.

“A shadowy figure one would assume and now one not to be trusted, given his precarious mental state,” continued Seabourne. “The trauma and so on.”

“My goodness. How clandestine and mysterious,” said Lilly, frowning, only vaguely familiar with the St. Martin name. “One never knows what resentments these types of horrific experiences may nurture. I infer from your comments that loyalty is at question for these individuals who find themselves one moment at the service of their country and at the next entirely disengaged or worse. And what of his family? The St. Martins do have a seat in the House of Lords, if I'm not mistaken.”

“The parents passed away some years ago and his older brother died of smallpox soon after, if I recall correctly. However, St. Martin has never taken up his place in Parliament, having instead disappeared for years to the farthest reaches of the globe. In her majesty's service, one presumes. Although one can presume no longer with his resignation.”